


Blame Gravity

by Airplanesandcookies (Mosgirllee)



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Bakery!Jack, Fluff, M/M, nhl!Bitty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-14
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2018-11-13 23:20:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11195574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mosgirllee/pseuds/Airplanesandcookies
Summary: It was Kent Parson's Fault...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a little idea.

Bitty would have visited that little bakery on Maple Street a long time ago, had the recommendation come from anyone except Kent Parson.

“Yo, Bits! You seem to like baked things. You should totally try out this bakery my old buddy from the Q owns in Providence. Tell him Kent sent you.” Parson paused for just a moment as he pulled on his jacket, “You know, maybe don’t mention me. Yeah, leave my name out of it.” And with that, he pulled he cap backwards and left.

It’s not that Bitty purposely avoided the bakery, he wasn’t that petty. He was just busy. It was his 2nd year in the NHL, his first with the Falconers. He was constantly at practice or on the road. If he was free and was in the area, then Starbucks was a block closer. Or if and when he had a taste for cinnamon rolls, then why go out to some unknown bakery (recommended by someone who’s favorite flavor was bubblegum, really Kent?), when he could spend a pleasant four hours kneading dough, punching it down, waiting for a second rise, rolling out, and baking a pan himself.

It totally made sense that he managed to avoid the Maple Street Bakery for an entire year.

Then playoffs happened. And he woke up the morning after an absolutely heartbreaking loss on the road (thank God it wasn’t against the Aces. Bitty would have eaten his hat if he had to shake hands with his former captain and secret nemesis) and realized that he had 1) no coffee, 2) no butter or milk, 3) and no good chocolate. 

He laced up his shoes, pulled his old Madison High School hoodie on, and ventured out into town in search for enough caffeine and sugar to garner the strength to actually act like an adult and go to the grocery store, do some laundry, and wallow in the Falconer’s defeat.

His first impression, the Maple Street Bakery was absolutely adorable, with exposed brick walls and warm wooden tables and an old school display counter lovingly restored filled with giant donuts, whole pies, an assortment of 4 types of cupcakes (which Bitty approved, cases with too many cupcake flavors at one time means that you aren’t paying attention to taste). Bitty walked up to the counter rang the little bell that satin front of a little silver robot with a hockey stick figurine by the register.

Bitty was trying to figure out what to try, the bear claw or the cinnamon roll when the most beautiful man he had even seen walked out in a flour covered apron and sad blue eyes.

Beautiful Baker Man almost dropped a tray of croissants and his eyes widened in surprise. “You are Eric Bittle.”

“Yes!” Bitty said a little too loudly. But to be fair, Bitty would have said yes to anything at that moment. 

Mr. Blue Eyed Baker Man with the broad shoulders and an accent smiled a bit and Eric pulled himself together and cursed Kent Parson to the moon and back. 

Blue Eyes smiled, a bit wider. “I’m a huge fan. What can I get you?”

Bitty licked his lips and put his hand on the counter, the picture of absolute relaxed nonchalance. “What do you recommend, Mr….”

Blue eyes reached over the counter. “I’m Jack.”

“Well, Mr. Jack. What do you recommend?”


	2. Chapter 2

Thirdy opened the door and found Bitty with a 1000 yard stare and a store-bought pie.

“Man, I know that this was a really disappointing loss, but I didn’t think it would kill your will to bake.”

Bitty sheepishly shrugged as the door opened wider and Carrie squeezed past her husband and took the pie from Bitty’s hands with a soft, “Yoink!” before giving him a firm hug and dragging him into the house. “Come in already! I’ve already opened the wine and dinner should be arriving soon.

“Bitty, this isn’t one of yours. Is this from…” Carrie squinted her eyes at the plain cardboard packaging with the simple piece of twine. The only thing on the box was a small stamp of a robot holding up a hockey puck. “This is from Jack’s bakery.”

Thirdy walked over and brushed his wife’s thick brown hair off of her shoulder and peeked at the stamp on the box, ‘Oh, it sure is. How is Zimms?”

Bitty blinked, “Zimms? I met the owner, he said his name was Jack.”  
Thirdy hummed, “Yeah, that’s Jack Zimmermann. Great guy! He has a lemon chiffon cake that you can only dream about.”

Zimmermann is not a name that can ever be uttered by another hockey player or fan without a immediate sense of recognition. Thirdy watched as the light bulb went off over Bitty’s head, his mouth forming a perfect ‘O’. But, the guy had to verify, even if it was redundant. “LIke, Robert ‘Bad Bob’ Zimmermann? Are they related?”

Carrie looked over at him before nodding. Thirdy can barely control the urge to call Marty or Snowy to rat Bittle out. Oh, the chirps. But Carrie is a better person than he is and with a completely straight face, she answers “Yes, Jack Zimmermann. He’s Bad Bob’s son.”

“And he’s a baker?” 

Carrie leads the crew into the dining room and places the pie on the table. She picks up a glass for Bitty, pouring an enthusiastic portion. “Mmm hmm. He played in the Q for a while. Then decided to go to school, and then he discovered a love of baking. And If you know Jack, he’s 110% about everything, so next thing we knew, he was running off to Montreal to the ITHQ, starting a kickstarter to buy his property and now we have a neighborhood baker who still gives Marty and Thirdy a run for their money during games of Shinny.”

Bitty can only blink stupidly. “You went to his shop, you must have talked to him, right?” Thirdy asks as casually as he can, a small thought beginning to bloom in the back of his mind. He looks towards Carrie and she winks behind her wine glass. 

Bittle face suddenly burns pink and that small thought blooms into a full blown plan. “We talked a bit, not about hockey though. It never came up.”

“What did you talk about?” Carrie asks, very lightly, with her sharp dark brown eyes narrowed and eyebrow quirked.

“Oh, you know, baking schedule, how to knead bread, the Great British Bake Off, coffee or milk with pie. That sort of thing. We only spoke for a half hour before business picked up.”

Carrie nodded and picked up the pie and walked towards the kitchen. “Here, why don’t I cut this and we’ll snack before the pizza gets here.”

Thirdy poured himself a drink before he heard the loud crash of a dish breaking. He rushed into the kitchen and found Carrie with a roll of paper towel, smeared pie on the floor and Rockwell sitting at her feet. “Oh shit, did you trip over the dog?”

Carrie shook her head, “Oh, honey, I’ve been stepping over Rock for 10 years. Pass me the broom.”

“Then what happened?”

“My matchmaker sense started tingling. I think I just found my 5th couple. That’s a milestone.”

Thirdy laughed, “Oh my god! I think I felt it. I got the tingle too. You think they could be good together?”

“Oh yea.” She ticked off on her fingers, “One, Jack talked to him during a work day. Two, Bittle looks like he could float away he’s so smitten. I had to sacrifice this pie so that Jack could bring us another one.”

“But it was Jack’s blueberry rhubarb. I love that pie.”

Carrie walked over and put her arms around his waist, “If you think that I dropped that entire pie, you don’t know me at all. I dropped a slice, the rest is in the back of the freezer.”

“I married up.”

“You sure did.” Carrie said, taking a step back before snapping a towel at him. “Now call Zimms and see if he has an extra pie and see if he wants to come to dinner. Drop Bittle’s name.”


	3. Chapter 3

Bitty could feel the short hairs on the back of his neck stand up when Carrie and Thirdy walked back in with smiles too big and eyes a little too wide. They were planning something, his nerves were sure of it. 

And look at him, a professional hockey player that dodges men with sticks and knives strapped to their feet, nervous over a little excited whispering from two of the nicest and most welcoming people that Bitty had ever met. 

Ugh, this was Kent Parson’s fault. 

Bitty blamed a lot on Kent Parson, especially last year’s surprise birthday party from hell. 

Bitty didn’t even mention his birthday this year in order to skate past it as quickly as possible, but Thirdy and Marty would have known, given it’s right there on any given roster. Had he only made that last goal, then they would still have been on the road instead of packed up and back home. 

“I’m trying not to be paranoid and all, but you both look like you just swallowed a canary.”

Carrie spoke up, “I’m sorry, hun. I dropped that pie in the kitchen and your linemate over there has been chirping me for a good 5 minutes.”

“You deserve it, dropping good pie like that.” Thirdy said, rushing past the answer the knock at the door. He quickly walked back in with a stack of pizzas. 

“How many people are coming tonight?” Eric asked, eyeing the extra large boxes. 

“I told a few people that if they were up to coming by tonight, that we would have enough. I think most people are just going to stay home and lick their wounds, but Tater might drop by. Who knows who else may show up to wish you happy birthday.”

“Ugh, I was hoping no one knew.”

Thirdy placed the pizzas onto the table and began opening up the steaming boxes, “You made pie for over half of the team, Bitty. Even somehow when we were on the road, birthday pie would just appear. Tonight, especially after a loss like that against the Preds, it was kinda rough, but trust me, the boys are going to probably take you out for a night on the town, so be prepared.”

The doorbell rang again and Carrie started beaming at Thirdy, Thirdy winked back at her and Bitty groaned. 

“I need to get the plates, Bitty, can you get the door?” Carrie asked, voice all innocent. 

Bitty’s manners won out and he walked to the front door, but he called loudly over his shoulder, “I know when I’m being set up. This feels exactly like the stripper incident from my birthday last year. There better not be a man ready to jump out of a cake when I open this door.”

Bitty threw open the door to find Mr. Jack-Hot-Buns-Zimmermann at the door, holding a white cardboard cake box in his hands. 

“If I had known, I would have made a much larger cake.”

Eric almost slammed the door closed in his surprise, but caught himself barely in time. 

“Jack!”

“Eric Bittle.”

“Yes!” Jack rocked back on his heels and Bitty kicked himself because he really needed to dial down the volume of his voice. He leaned against the doorframe, and prayed that it looked nonchalant. “It’s good to see you again.” He gave himself a high five for not asking, what are you doing here?

“Carrie ordered a cake or pie, actually she said, bring whatever I had left in the case and come over for dinner.”

And oh, that explained the Robinson’s sheer giddiness. He was not mad at all.

“Well, Jack, come on in and join our pity party.”

“And it’s your birthday?” Jack asked, walking through the door and heading towards the dining room without prompting. “Does that make this a Bitty Pity Party?”

Bitty stopped in his tracks and snorted, “Oh, that was really bad.”

“You laughed.”

“Because it was so bad. It was dad joke bad.”

Jack smiled, a small shy quirk of his lips and a small crinkle next to those amazing downcast eyes, “You laughed, so I count it as a win.”


	4. Chapter 4

“Pretty please, Uncle Jack! I promise I will get up super early and then I can help you make cupcakes with purple frosting.”

“And of course, we can’t forget the gold sprinkles.”

Princess bounced on her toes, “Lots of sprinkles.”

Jack smiled, “Okay, I’ll make you a deal. You go back to bed, and tomorrow morning, after you let your parents get some rest, come by the bakery and I will have everything ready to make your patented Purple Princess cupcakes.”

“With Sprinkles.”

“They wouldn’t be complete without them.”

Princess held out her little hand and dutifully shook Jack’s before Thirdy scooped her up in his arms. 

“Thanks, man. I don’t think we ever would have gotten her back to bed without that deal.” Thirdy said over his shoulder as he walked back over to Carrie, who kissed her daughter on the cheek before they all headed up the stairs.

From across the room, Bitty sighed over his plate.

“Tater. How hard did that goon run me into the boards?”

“Don’t worry! I hit him harder.” Tater said around a bite of pizza.

“I mean, I would know if I was in a coma or dead, right?”

Tater wiped his mouth. “If you were dead? We would have won the game and I would not be this sore.”

Bitty nodded, “Good point. This is all Kent Parson’s fault.”

“Yes! Parson’s fault, but I not follow.”

Bitty smiled and hugged Tater with his free arm. “You are a really good friend. Thank you.”

Marty and Guy had pulled Jack over into their rather intense looking conversation and even with the furrowed brow and frowning, that man looked so good. Jack glanced over at him quickly before jumping back into the conversation. He was wearing loud yellow sneakers and dark khaki shorts and a fitted white t-shirt that hugged his belly and biceps and Bitty knew he was staring, but he was too tired to stop himself from taking a good long thirsty look. 

Carrie came back into the room and walked over to Bitty, refilling his wine glass before she zeroed in on the trio talking. 

“Oh lord, I know those frowns. Come with me, Bits.” And Bitty really didn’t have a choice as she dragged him over to the small crowd.   
“You get fined and you get fined! Pay up. You know the rules, no talking about hockey.” Carrie said, arms folded and looking stern. 

Marty threw his hands up in surrender, “You are right! Just wanted an outsider perspective.”

Guy shrugged, “I only wanted Jack’s perspective. But you are right. No hockey talk.”

Carrie looked over at Jack. “How’s business? I saw that you are planning some major renovations for the bakery.”

And it was like looking at a before and after picture of someone going on vacation. Bitty would have missed the tight shoulders, stiff neck, and closed off posture, had he not watched Jack literally deflate from relief.

“It’s going well. We have another Kickstarter proposal in the works to buy a new oven.”

“Please tell me you are going to do another calendar.” Carrie wiggled her eyebrows, “My co-workers still talk about that calendar. It is still 2015 in our office.”

Jack chuckled, “Oh god, no. I don’t know how I managed to even sit for that first photoshoot. But that did get us the downpayment for our location.”

Bitty was completely lost and looked over at Carrie, who winked at him. “Jack started off in a small shared kitchen making desserts for parties, small events, and weddings. He and Larissa Duan, his business partner, decided to try a Kickstarter to get a location of their own a few years back. Backers got a Maple Street Bakery calendar with a few recipes and 12 pictures of Jack here in nothing but an apron.”

“Which is really not safe to bake in.”

And Lord, Bitty can feel his wallet trying to levitate out of his pocket in order to travel back in time and fling itself at Jack. 

“He could have made more money if he would have let us poise too.” Thirdy said, joining in. 

Jack shook his head, “I’m pretty sure Falconer’s PR nixed that idea.”  
“You are right, this face would have earned too much money. You would have had to open two locations.” Thirdy replied as Carrie swatted his arm. 

“Guys, I’m really flattered that you even offered, but I couldn’t and wouldn’t ask that. Plus, I like that this is something that I did on my own. No obvious connections or favors pulled.”  
Bitty pushed through a little closer, “Thats amazing, Jack. Starting a business isn’t easy.”

And Jack honest to god blushed and that was it, Bitty was gone and done for. 

“It’s not that big of a deal.”

“I think it is. Plus, don’t go telling anyone else.” Bitty looked around and realized that Carrie, Thirdy, Marty, and Guy had vanished, but he lowered his voice anyway. “I will concede that your chocolate cupcake and the bear claw was perhaps as good as my own.”

Jack barked out a laugh and Carrie, standing off behind him grinned and gave Bitty a two thumbs up. 

An alarm suddenly rang, low and insistent nearby. 

“Is your back pocket ringing?” Bitty asked.

“Oh, it’s my alarm, I probably should be heading to bed soon. I need to be at the bakery by 4:30am to open by 6. 

Bitty nodded and put his plate down, unsure of how to proceed. “Yeah, I probably should head home too. I’m practically black and blue all over.

“You took a really nasty hit on the ice last night.”

Bitty ran his hand down the side of his torso, “Comes with the territory, I guess. What I really need is a good long soak and some rest. But for some reason my condo only has a shower, no bathtub.”

“I have a bathtub.” Jack blurted. “I mean, if you ever want. That’s probably weird to offer that. But, yeah, I have one. It has jacuzzi jets.”

It’s been a few seconds and Bitty is trying his best to read between the lines here and is coming up short. Because Bitty knows what it sounds like, but if he’s wrong, well, he just doesn’t want to be wrong. 

“Jack, um, I…” Bitty starts and Jack cuts him off. 

“Forget I said anything. It’s really late and I should probably go.”

Bitty nods. “Um, so I have a few things to do tomorrow for the team, but if you don’t mind, I would love to come by your bakery and buy a few patented Princess Purple cupcakes.”

Jack’s face lightens and a small smile appears, “Come by anytime at 8am, I’ll save a few for you.” And he turns to go.

And yea, Bitty is gone and done for.

***

Carrie pulled her husband off to the side, “So, what just happened?”

Thirdy shook his head, “It was adorable and awful. They both have no game whatsoever. Zimms invited Bitty back to his place.”

“Oh, that’s bolder than I would have guessed for Jack.”

“Except,” Thirdy said, “they both self destructed and Jack made a run for it.”

“No!”

“Carrie, yes! I think that Bits is going to try to go to the bakery tomorrow and buy purple cupcakes though.”

Carrie groaned, “You know what this means? One of us is going to have to wake early and take Princess to Jack’s bakery so that they can make damn adorable cupcakes and fall in love.”

Thirdy reached into his pocket and pulled out a coin, “Heads, I take her.”

Carrie grabbed the coin and tossed it into the air. “The things we do for our friends.”


	5. Help Wanted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bitty knows his way around a bakery and has lots of free time...

Bitty stood outside, pacing in front of Jack’s bakery doors for far too long not to get a few suspicious glances from patrons going in and out. 

On one hand, he did say that he planned to stop by and pick up one, two, or a dozen purple princess cupcakes. (Maybe he could freeze them or pass a few out to his neighbors). 

On the other more reasonable hand, he could have misread all of the signs and perhaps Jack was not flirting, only being polite. And if that was the case, wouldn’t it be mortifying to walk in only to be politely rejected with only 3 dozen cupcakes, and maybe a bear claw to soften that blow? 

He was out of hands and out of time, so he squared his shoulders and pushed into the bakery. 

It was just as adorably quaint as he remembered it was which was quite frankly a relief. He could confess that he was a man who had a fair share of unrequited crushes which did slightly tint his world a shade of rose. 

“Bitty!” Thirdy was sitting off to the side of the cafe with a slice of quiche and an enormous mug of coffee still steaming in front of him. 

“What do I need to do to get one of those.” Bitty asked, pointing to the coffee.

“You are in luck, I know the owner and I know where he keeps the oversized mugs. Come on.”

Except for a few people, cuddled down on the couch or in the corner tapping away at their computer, the place hummed along, quiet and autonomous. 

Thirdy knocked on the front counter and Princess bounced in from the kitchen, wearing a small green apron and climbed up on a step stool. “Hello, how may I help you?” 

“I would like to order a extra large coffee for Bitty. Also, will your special cupcakes be ready soon.”

Princess leaned forward and whispered. “I don’t know! The oven isn’t heating up. Jack is trying to talk to it.”

Speaking his name must have conjured the man from the back, he came towards the counter. “Eric Bittle.”

And Bitty beamed a little helplessly even though he could see Thirdy’s smug smile out the corner of his eye. “Hi Jack. I hear you are having oven trouble?”

Jack raised an eyebrow down at Princess and she shrugged nonplussed. “He asked for a extra large coffee too.”

Jack turned around and reached up to a high shelf, thick with broad shoulders on display and Bitty might have sighed a little bit given Thirdy’s chuckle. 

“Eliza is in poor health.” Jack said, going over to the expresso counter to grab the french press and hot water.

“Oh no, Jack! I’m so sorry.” Bitty began, hand on his heart. “Ummm. Is Eliza your…girlfriend?”

Jack’s startled laugh lit up his face and Bitty was so engrossed it took a second for him to realize that Thirdy and Princess were laughing at him. 

“No. I don’t have a girlfriend.” Jack said as he poured the hot water. He glanced up, long eyelashes and puppy eyes. “Or a boyfriend.”

And Bitty’s heart did a fist pump in his chest. 

“Eliza is my oven. She came with the building and she’s what got us through that first year of business. I have another but she’s what I use for small batch baking and general cooking. She’s on her last legs. I thought I could sweet talk her into working, which is why Princess is manning the counter.”

“It’s why I’m working the counter.” Thirty said under his breathe. 

“Can I help?” Bitty asked, the offer out of his mouth before he could even think about it. Jack froze for a moment. His face closing off as he opened his mouth to respond. But Bitty had the ability to babble at record speed. 

“I mean, my mom and my aunt actually own a small cafe and bakery. They have dreams of being the non-problematic Paula Deen but anyway, I used to work there every off season. I am great at manning the counter and refilling coffee. I even know how to run an expresso machine so like if you need to get on the phone and make calls about your oven, then I am your man. I mean, not literally your man, but a useful man who just happens to have nothing really to do for the next few months and ha! Did I mention that I love to bake. I don’t want to toot my own horn…”

“Bittle!” Jack interjected, wide eyed with a growing smile. “I don’t think I need your resume after a introduction like that.”

“But I thought I was your assistant manager.” Princess said, from her step stool. 

Jack plunged the coffee through the filter and turned back to the little girl, “You are my assistant manager. Now you have an employee that can help while you are in school.”

She nodded, “That’s fair.” 

Bitty beamed and bounced on his toes as Jack waved his arm to welcome him back behind the counter and into the kitchen. Jack was also kind enough to pour the coffee into the giant mug and pass it to him as he conducted a quick tour of the place and intro to the beautiful antiqued Eliza. Bitty managed to snap a quick photo and sent it to his mother with the caption, #summer job when she texted injuring about summer plans. 

While Jack tried to reach someone to repair Eliza, Princess worked diligently on covering her cupcakes with as many sprinkles as they would hold while her father patiently recorded her progress on his phone. 

It wasn’t until 2pm before the quiet hum of the business changed into a roar as business suddenly picked up with a large number of patrons in Falconers gear.

Bitty, who had spent the entire morning enjoying the quiet that obscurity affords, now sat in the front of the bakery smiling, signing autographs and fielding questions while pouring coffee and manning the till. “If you don’t mind me asking, what’s your favorite treat here?” Bitty asked, willing to take the long route to get to the answer he wanted. 

“Oh, I’ve never been here. I just heard that you were going to be here and here I am. Is that weird.” A young guy, bronzed skin and large brown eyes, clearly not out of high school replied. 

“Thank you so much for your support! I had no idea I was this popular.” Bitty replied, his television persona firmly in place. 

“Yea, after Kent Parson tweeted that you would be here, I know a few of my friends wanted to come and see #15 in the flesh.’

“Kent Parson, you say?” 

The guy pulled out his phone and held it up, and sure enough, Kent Parson had retweeted the photo that he had sent his mother and tagged it. Following the thread, he could see how his mother had tweeted the photo with the caption, “Dicky found a new summer job. He better not divulge our family pie crust recipe.”

“Why the hell does Kent follow my mother?” Confused, Bitty asked the phone screen not expecting a response and jumping out of his skin when he got one. 

“Ah, this is his way of helping, I think.” Jack said, hands on his hips as he momentarily hovered. “Maybe I can tell you more about it over dinner? It’s the least I can do since you have helped me out today.”

Bitty nodded his head yes and for the first time, he really couldn’t be mad at Kent Parson.


End file.
